As Lucius settled into the empty space beside Grace, the ship glided smoothly through the small waves, forging ahead while a gentle, cool breeze tenderly brushed against their faces.
Her long, pitch-black hair caught the sunlight and grabbed his attention as it danced in the air with grace and wild abandon.
With a casual sidelong glance, Lucius noticed the sun reflecting off Grace's pristine white porcelain mask, unveiling a subtle, thin line that traversed a third of its surface—a delicate scar from their battle.
Back in the city, during their meeting at the store, the physical distance had prevented him from discerning this detail.
Additionally, he had paid little attention as they traveled here through the night. It was only now, up close, that he could truly perceive the mark.
'She repaired it,' Lucius thought inwardly, instinctively raising his hand and touching his chest where a black sword had once resided, sighing.
